


The Guinevere Protocol

by Freya Deathstalker (Holo_Bayliss)



Series: The Guinevere Protocol [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone lives except for Chester King for sure, Multi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, will add tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holo_Bayliss/pseuds/Freya%20Deathstalker
Summary: When the current executive secretary of Arthur retires, it falls to the current Galahad, Lancelot, and Percival to replace her. Percival happens to just know the prefect person for the job, but she ends up helping Kingsman finally come into the twenty-first century...Kicking and screaming all the way.Also known as--- a Complete Rewrite of Kingsman





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a on going project. Chapters will be added as they are written. Weekly updates, I hope. The plot is planned out. Various points are sketched out on paper, so hopefully I can actually get this written in a timely manner. If you want to poke and prod me, I am on tumblr under this name. Chapter count may or may not be accurate. It totally depends on how much I can get written that week.  
> NOTE: All ships are not listed, due to possible spoilers for the story, and I just don't want to list them yet. 
> 
> Freya-Deathstalker <3

Chapter one-

March 20, 2010

The three agents sat around Lancelot’s desk. They each had a file folder in front of them. The only sound in the room was the hum of the florescent light, a small air filter, and the occasional ruffle of pages. Lancelot looked up from the pages in front of him. Slapping the folder shut with a huff, “There is no way I’m hiring a woman who looks and sounds exactly like my gran to do this job. She’d make biscuits and pat us all on the head. This one isn’t going to work.”

Galahad looked up and slid his file away as well,“This one looks about twelve and doesn’t appear to have more than a years service in the Girl Guides. I don’t think she has ever touched a gun. That’s a no on this one as well.”

Percival barely looked up from his phone as he continued to text someone, it made a soft meowing noise in response.“My file is fine. I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Where do you think you are going?” Galahad spat. He was frustrated and annoyed that Percival, of all people would skive off to go somewhere.

Lancelot looked between his two friends. not really wanting to play peacemaker. “I’m sure he has a good reason to be leaving.” At least he hoped he had a good excuse.

Percival looked up after sending off another text.“I’m going to make a job offer.” He said, as he pushed his file across the table. He headed to the door and shut it behind him.

Galahad and Lancelot opened the file and looked at the name and photo of the woman.

Lancelot read off the file, “Samantha Mae Crawford. Aged thirty-three. Retired from Army service in January with eighteen years. She was a sergeant. Damn.”

Galahad looked it over. _Yes, they had found their Guinevere._

____

Percival entered the laundromat and instantly spotted her sitting on a washing machine near the back of it. She was reading a tabloid of some kind and was sat across from a bank of dryers. The ginger haired woman was shaking her head, quite obviously disgusted.

As he approached her she spoke,“You would think that if the Royal family really were aliens that the main stream press would pick up on the story and it would be blown right open. You'd think that it should be picked up by the Guardian or the Independent, not in the Sun.” She threw the paper on top of the washer next to her as Alistair sat in the chair next to her machine.“So, you text me like it’s going out of style. What do you want, Al?”

He smirked, _of course, straight to the heart of the matter, that’s why she’s prefect for the job._ “A job offer. I told you that over the final text I sent.” He put a file folder on her knees,“If you care to look it over, You will see that the compensation is more than adequate and there is....”

“Cut the crap, Al. What am I signing up for? What is it that you and Marc actually do? Because you are not tailors.” Her green eyes flashed as she waved the folder at him, “I'll look it over when you tell me the truth.”

He smirked, she was definitely going to be an excellent fit. “Alright,” He stated, trying hard to sound reluctant, “We're spies. Before you ask, yes like James Bond. Only we don't suck like MI6. We 're independent of the Government, we do answer sort of to a governing body that is made up of children of our founders. But generally they just want to know where the money is going.”

Sam eyed him, flipping the file open and sort of scanning it. “So mercenaries in a way.”

“No, we do good, Samantha. Real good.” He stated looking up at her as she still sat on the machine. “So, are you going to jump off of that when it hits the spin cycle?”

“No. I'm gonna ride it like I rode your uncle last night.” She deadpanned.

“Oh, you like your men barely alive and in a care home.” He deadpanned back.

“He was more than barely alive last night,” She stated, jumping of the washer as it hit the spin cycle.”Tell the twats you work for I'll be there at eight AM tomorrow morning.” Grabbing a pen from Al's inside pocket, she quickly signed the three forms that needed her signature. Shoving the file back to him, she snorted, “Unless you want to watch my knickers take a spin in the dryer I'll see your sexy arse tomorrow morning. In front of that Kingsman tailor shop on Savile Row, right?”

He nodded and patted her on the top of the head, “It will be nice working with you finally, Sammy.”

“Likewise, Alisaurus.” She reflexively replied. “And don't fucking call me Sammy. And tell Marc, he'd better be there tomorrow or I'm breaking into his office and peeing in a drawer.”

“Sorry, Samantha.” He smart assed back. “Of course, but why don't you just text him like you did me?”

“Because he's a prick and doesn't reply to texts. He calls me back. At least you are a decent friend.” She watched as the washer finished spinning out and she lifted the lid, “I guess your staying for the knicker show then. Does watching wet knickers do it for ya?”

He snorted and laughed at her, “The people in there are going to think we hate each other. But no, watching your knickers roll around in a dryer does not do it for me. I would sooner die than see your knickers anywhere near my person.”

“Get them out of the washer and throw them in the open dryer. I need to get more change.” She stated and walked over to the change machine, “Chop chop, Al. They ain't getting dry in the washer.”

He looked into the washer and the void stared back. Grabbing a single black thong, he slowly lifted his head to look at Samantha sauntering over to the change machine, chatting up the elderly lady pulling a pair of what looked to be polyester pants out of a washing machine. He watched her walk back with the change.

She tilted her head to the side a bit, “Do my knickers frighten you, Mr Morton?”

“Maybe, Ms Crawford. This is black dental floss, not knickers.” He said, pulling the black thong out of the machine. “And this is just a bit of lace attached to elastic” pulling another one out, “And this...Does this bit go in the front of in the back?”

Sam pushed him out of the way and started chucking them in the dryer. “Honestly, men. Throw a pair of knickers at them and they lose their minds.” Looking up at him she smirked, “So you and Marc got cool codenames like double-o Dork or something?”

“I'm Percival and Marc is Bedievere.”

She raised her eyebrows, “You are all really named after Knights of the round table.”

“It was in the file.”

“I know but I didn't believe the file.”

“You should believe the file. We are handing you the world with this job, Sam. You won't believe what you will see.” Al stated as she popped some change in the dryer.

“Honestly, if you pay me enough to get a new hob, I'll be fucking thrilled.” She started the dryer and smiled at him. “I'll see you tomorrow. I swear I'll be there at eight on the nose, right outside your posh arse tailor shop.” She grabbed him by the jacket and hugged him hard.

Al hugged her back. He let go and kissed her on the top of the head. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

As he left, he waved at her and watched her turn back to the dryer. She was gonna be perfect.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.  
March 21, 2010 7:45 AM

 

Percival sat on the steps in front of the shop, smoking a cigarette. He watched as cars passed by on the street. He watched both ends of the street waiting for Samantha. When a cab pulled up and parked directly in front of him it pulled him out of the thoughts he had been having.

James smiled, “Good morning, Percy. Is our new Guinevere here yet?”

Al yawned and shook his head as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette. “I don't expect her before eight.” Looking around he raised his eyebrows at James, “Where's your boyfriend?”

James laughed, “Still in bed. He couldn't be arsed to get out of bed this morning. Hopefully he'll be in before noon. He's absolutely worthless, but bloody fucking gorgeous.”

“Harry's going to be late to his own funeral. He'd better show up with danishes.” Percival said as he looked down the street toward Vigo Street and smiled. He tapped James on the arm and pointed.

Coming up the pavements was Samantha dressed in what one could call a shockingly pink coat, a skirt suit that looked like something Jackie Kennedy would have worn, and a pair of kitten heels that probably could have killed a man. Her hair was done up in the tightest french roll he had ever seen. She carried a cup of coffee and a cigarette in one hand and her hand bag in the other.

James whistled, “Damn, she looks better then the shitty photo in the file.”

Percival watched as she paused in front of them, smiled her biggest smile, took a long drag off her cigarette, stubbed it out, literally shoved her coffee at James, and immediately hugged Percival.  
With her head buried in his collar she whispered, 'Hi, Al. Good morning.”

Percival grinned over head and looked at James. James looked back at him with a slightly confused look. Percival promised himself to clear things up with him as soon as he could.

Sam pulled away and reached for her coffee cup. James held it out to her. While grabbing it she greeted him, “I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I'm Samantha Crawford.”

James smiled sweetly, “Lancelot, pleasure to meet you. I have read your file. I think you'll be an excellent addition to the organization.”

She winked at him, “Thanks, mate.” Looking back at Percival, she straightened his tie and smirked, “So are you going to take me inside and show me all the shit I need to know.”

Rolling his eyes a bit, he motioned for her to go up the steps and enter. Looking back at James he whispered, “I've known her since she was ten. Bedievere and I were fourteen. She took issue with someone giving Marc shit and chased after said person with a Cricket Bat.” He and James started going up the stairs, “It was inevitable that we would be come best friends then. She was the one we had to keep in check. Not the other way around.”

James gave a knowing look, as they went up the steps.

Al glared back, “No, we are not shagging. Not that I wouldn't, but no.”

James snorted as they got to the door.

Al continued to glare, “Honestly, James. If you say a word I will murder you in your sleep, right next to Harry.”

James mimed zipping his lips and locking them.

Al mouthed, “Fuck you.”

James mouthed back, “Later.”

Al opened the door to the shop and watched as Sam walked over to one of the material stands. She stared at the mustard colored windowpane material and smiled. Looking at Al with a smirk she walked up to Cedric, the tailor on duty.

“Sir,” She asked sweetly, “Do you happen to have this mustard material in a Dark Navy?”

Cedric nodded, “Yes.”

“So, you could make that one over there,” pointing at Al, “a suit with a waistcoat in that material?”

He looked at her, “Yes, I could.”

“So, will you?” She asked smirking back at Al and James.

“Of course.” Cedric stated, writing something down.

She walked back to the two men and smiled, “Now where.”

Al guided her to fitting room one and opened the door. When they were all in James shut the door and leaned against the tables in the room.

When Al put his hand on the glass of the mirror and the floor started going down, she burst out laughing, “You guys really are James Bond and I'm fucking Moneypenny.”

“Only better.” James added, with a small smile.

 

2 days later.

 

Sam stared at the man in the chair in front of her. Eyeing the box of danishes he had placed in front of her on her desk. “So, is this a bribe or something.”

He shrugged, “Take it anyway you want, but I wish to apologize and introduce myself. I'm Galahad.” Sticking his hand out for a hand shake.

She smiled at him and shook his hand then pulled him around the desk. “I require your assistance, Galahad. Do you happen to know Arthur's password?”

He smiled back evilly, “As a matter of fact, I do. What are you thinking of doing?”

She smirked, “Fucking fixing shit. Are you in?”

He pulled a chair up next to her and sat down.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
April 22, 2010 7:30 PM

Alistair stood outside the building, under a small awning trying hard to avoid getting wet from the rain. The cigarette smoke curling and intermingling with the slight fog in the air. It would look damn film noir if he hadn't been having a mild existential crisis. Although, he would probably fit into one of those films had he been wearing a suit instead of half worn out jeans, a t-shirt that had a coffee stain on it, and a hooded sweat shirt that smelled oddly of baked beans. He considered going back home, but he had already walked the distance from his house to hers twice and frankly he didn't have it in him to do it again.

He was just going to have to face it. He was in love with her. He was just going to have to tell her. He stubbed the cigarette out, pulled his hood up over his head and walked from the corner to the small mews she lived down. Finding her house was simple, it was the only one on the entire mews with a blue door. Pausing in front, he pulled his hood back down and considered sitting at the small metal table and chairs she had sat out front. But he was cold, wet, and just wanted to get this over with so he could go home and cry into a bottle of something alcoholic and expensive. He figured he was going to need the good booze tonight.   
He knocked lightly, barely getting his hand back in the pocket of his sweat shirt when the door opened with a click. His eyes happened to focus on the fact that she was wearing tube socks with stripes on the top, a t-shirt, and her hair was wet. That was it. He swallowed and tried to remain calm, even though his heart rate had officially thrown in the towel and was currently conspiring with his brain to kill him.

She tilted her head and smiled, “Hi Al, Perhaps you should come in before you catch cold.” She reached for his arm that was still half way in the air and pulled him inside gently.   
When she got him inside, she shut and locked the door behind him. He was suddenly hyper aware of her. He could smell her shampoo, feel the heat coming off of her, and her hands pushing him towards her living room. 

“Come on Al, you've seen me like this before. Come on, move.” She pushed on his back and finally got him to actually lurch forwards.   
He never remembered things being this bad before. She had hugged him this morning, at work, in front of three agents and Merlin, and his brain didn't shut down like this. Trying to desperately rationalize things, it finally occurred to him. It was because they were alone, in her house and he could actually act on the feelings that were building up since Marc's wedding in nineteen-ninety-four. 

She pushed him to the sofa and sat him down. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of tea for him, made perfectly to his specifications. Handing it to him over the back of the sofa, she climbed over herself and sat down next to him.

Alistair took a small sip and Samantha leaned in slightly and looked up at him. “Why does your shirt smell like baked beans?” 

“Um....I...I don't know, actually. I might have worn it when I was making beans on toast the other day” 

Samantha smiled, tapping his knee with hers. “It's nice to know our philosophy on doing laundry is the same,” she poked him lightly in the side, “I got one pair of knickers and two day dirty socks left to wear. Maybe I should do laundry.” 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, “Yes, it is. I rinsed a pair of pants out this morning in the shower so I have some to wear tomorrow.” 

She laughed slightly and smiled, “Don't open the shower curtain if you go to the loo. You might have an aneurysm from my bras drip drying in the tub.” 

He turned and looked her in the eyes, “All of them? All three of them?” He laughed, “You actually washed the one that you swear you never wash. Including the green lacy one?” 

She looked at him oddly, “How do you know about the green lacy one?”

He looked away sheepishly, “You bent over the other day in front of me and I may have looked down your shirt on accident.” 

“Why were you looking down my shirt Mr Morton?” He noticed her getting closer and sliding a leg over his. He stammered and continued to try and will his heart to stop hammering. She took his tea out of his hands and placed the mug on the stand next to him. She ended up depositing herself on his thighs. “Alistair, how about we stop fooling ourselves and just kiss, ok?” 

He nodded and surged up to meet her mouth. 

**Three hours later.**

“We are complete and utter idiots.” Samantha stated, Alistair's head was resting on her chest, his right hand resting over the the scar on her left side. 

“Why's that?” He asked, hoping that he was not going to be tossed out on his ear and never spoken to again. That would really fuck up work something fierce. He continued to trace the scars with his fingers.

“Why weren't we doing this sooner?” She touched his face gently, trying to will him to come up and kiss her. 

He got the hint and met her lips softly. “Because we were dumb and nobody actually left us alone long enough to let us.” Dropping back down to her chest, he kissed her collarbone and nuzzled her neck. 

“I crawled in fucking bed with you at Christmas at the Malbrey's.” 

He whispered back, “I had a migraine headache because somebody tried to shoot me in the head.” he pointed to the location where he had had an injury. “and need I remind you, you had just gotten out of hospital after being nearly blown up. You weren't even fully healed yet.” 

She laughed, “Would have been perfectly valid excuse for popping stitches. And yours was just a graze.” 

Kissing her neck, he said, “Still hurt.” He kissed her again and spoke softly, “Two small children, belonging to Marc came in twenty minutes after you crawled in bed with me to wake us from our nap for biscuits, remember.” 

“Oh, yeah. Never alone at the Malbrey's.” 

“Never left us alone.” He stated again. Resting his head back down, “Wake me up early, so I can go home and get dressed for work, OK?” 

Sam tangled her fingers in his hair and spoke, “You have a suit here, you know. The one I got Ced to make for you. The dark navy one. I have everything you need to wear it.” 

He patted her arm, “Then wake me when you get up. Good night, my love.” 

**April 23, 2010 7:30 AM**

Samantha stared at Alistair as he attempted to get her stove to work. “I told you I needed a new hob. I told you when I got hired I needed one.” 

“Does any of these nobs actually work or is it a crap shoot every time you turn it on?” He took his eyes off the stove when she walked past him in her bra and matching knickers, “I'm glad we skipped that awkward _can't see each other with out clothes on_ stage and went directly to the _comfortable enough to walk around the house in our pants_ stage. Also, it's nice to know which side of those does go in the front.” _'She's wearing a fucking garter belt, I'll get nothing done at work now.'_ He thought. 

She whacked him with a tea towel and shooed him away. “Go put clothes on and we'll go get something to eat at the coffee shop down the road. The coffee's better and they have cream cheese danishes.” She pushed him towards the stairs and to the bedroom. “Clothes! Then cream cheese danishes!” 

**Two hours later.**

“We're late. I'm turning into Galahad. I've never been late, Samantha. Never.” Alistair stated clearly appalled at his own tardiness. “I have never been so ashamed in my life.”   
“Not even when I..” She started to say. 

“No, not even when you did that to me in public in front of two hundred people at Marc's wedding. Not even then.” He stated quite ready to go back home and crawl right back in bed with her. Turning and looking at her, “I say we give today up as a bad job, go back home, crawl in bed, and just... Fuck it.” He said, dropping his coffee on the steps out side of Kingsman and snogged her. He tasted the cream cheese and the chocolate of the Mocha she was drinking. 

She pulled him into her and whispered into his lips, “Agreed.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
September 20, 2010 10:45 AM  
James stared at the treadmill, as if it had offended him. Well, technically it had. It had thrown him off when Sam had come by and swatted Harry's ass with a towel while he ran on the treadmill in front of him. That caused him to lose his balance and fall off.

He continued to glare at it as she walked over to the rowing machine and start rowing. James knew she was working out because she was trying to stay in shape, but also to distract her from the fact that Percival hadn't come back from his mission quite yet. 

James heard the oxfords clicking on the floor before he saw the owner walking in front of him. Bedievere gave him a smile and sat on a bench in front of Sam's rowing machine. They talked briefly and then both quickly left the room. 

James walked over to Harry's treadmill and he slowed to a walk then shut it down. Stepping off he looked to James, “I take it Percival must be back. I spoke to him on the plane. We are having him and Samantha over for dinner tonight so we can discuss some of the things we found on the server.” He headed to the locker room. 

**Several hours later**

When Harry and James greeted them at the door they seemed antsy and distracted. Exactly like they were hiding something. 

They chatted amicably during dinner. Harry decided to finally discuss the reason for them coming together. “I want to invoke the Protocol. I think we have enough on King to do it.” 

James dropped his spoon, Samantha shook her head, and Alistair stared straight at Harry. “No.” Alistair shook his head to bring home the point. “While you were scouring the servers for things King's been doing wrong, I've been scouring the servers for things that have happened when the protocol's been invoked. It's not pretty, Harry.”

Harry tilted his head as if to say go on. 

Alistair spoke, placing his spoon down, “In nineteen-fifty-seven the protocol was invoked by Lancelot in a bid to remove Arthur from power for causing the deaths of four agents without reason. That resulted in the additional deaths of Lancelot and Guinevere. In nineteen-sixty-two Galahad invoked it and caused the death of both Arthur and Guinevere. In nineteen-seventy Percival invoked it and it caused the death of Lancelot, Percival, Galahad, and Guinevere. Are you seeing a pattern here? It's not a good idea. That was the last time it was invoked. We do not need to be doing that.” 

“You think someone will try and kill Samantha if we invoke it.” James looked across the table at Alistair. 

He nodded, “Yes. Kay would be angry enough to, so would Geriant. The rest would be supportive, but suspicious of the timing. Kay would be next in line for Arthur, Harry. You know that he's a hell of a lot worse than King is right now. Bennett would be looking for excuses to kick you and James out, just like King did with the old Gawain in nineteen-ninety-eight. Hell, he'd come up for an excuse to kick all three of us out, and he'd still shoot Samantha. So no, what we need to do is start slowly pulling power away from King, without letting him know we are doing it. Slowly get it back to the way the two positions were conceived to be in the beginning.” 

Harry looked intrigued. He knew Alistair had been doing research on something when he and Samantha had been holed up in his office and Alistair joined them for lunch, making sure they ate. Harry asked, “And how was that?”

“A partnership. Arthur and Guinevere shared power. One could not do or authorize anything without the other's approval. It was changed in nineteen-forty, when the then Guinevere died in The Blitz and they chose not to replace her until after the war. Then she was turned into what we have today, a glorified secretary. What we need is a Queen, someone to keep Arthur in check. Someone who is going to prevent the shit you found in the servers from happening at all.” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned in a bit, “I want him gone just as bad as you two, I do.”

“Then let me invoke it. Let me give Samantha the power to run Kingsman while we clean house.” Harry stated, “We-We have to do this. Percy, it's for the good of Kingsman. Letting Chester just run all over us is turning this into a bloody fucking mess.” 

Alistair made to speak when Samantha placed her hand on his arm. She spoke gently, “Harry, it's not that I don't appreciate your confidence in me to run Kingsman like a well oiled machine, but what Alistair said is true, every word of it. I hear whispers that most of you don't get to hear. My office is directly next to Arthur's. Kay is in there on a daily basis trying to convince Arthur to remove you three and trying to get me out of my job. He's just looking for an excuse.” 

James stared at the three of them and made to get up from the table. Harry grabbed his hand and firmly kept him in place. Harry looked around the table and slowly nodded, “I'll give you time, but as soon as you feel like it's safe, we are invoking this.” 

Alistair let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, “Thank you Harry.” 

Samantha and Alistair stayed for another half hour. As Harry shut the door he reacted in anger, “WHAT IN THE HELL do they think that delaying this will help.” 

“They are planning something, Harry. If you were paying attention you would have seen it.” He calmly took Harry's hand and lead him up the stairs towards their bedroom, “As soon as what ever it is that they need to do gets done, they'll let you invoke the protocol. Then Chester will be out of our hair.” 

Harry sighed, “I just wish they would tell us what it is that they are planning, then we could help.” 

James smiled and pulled him into the bedroom, “Just forget that and come to bed.”

“Yes, dear.” Harry answered.

**September 22, 2010**

James had actually come in late for once and not Harry. He'd been to hospital to visit his estranged mum and dad. His father had just had triple bypass surgery and his mum and him had finally found common ground to come to an agreement and work out their differences. It had been an actual nice visit and had made him feel better. They were actually going to finally patch things up between them. As he exited the tube he noticed the commotion at Merlin's terminal. 

“That was my mission, Merlin. You sent them on my mission.” 

“Yes, Harry I did, because it was for a heterosexual couple, not for a gay couple.” Merlin stated turning back to the screen where the mission in question, a sudoku puzzle, and words with friends were being displayed. “What were you planning on doing, dressing James in a dress? He'd never pass for a woman. Who were you going to try and get? You can't ask Gawain, because...” 

“It would be rude as fuck.” Harry stated glaring a hole in the back of Merlin's head,” I was actually going to ask Samantha if she would help me.” 

“Well, that's fortunate since that's who Percival took with him.” Merlin pointed to the Mission displayed in the center screen. 

James noted that the display was split between two locations. One was Percival's feed showing an empty room and he was obviously struggling with some ropes. The other was a CCTV feed of what looked to be Samantha tied to a chair and seven people surrounding her attempting to get her to talk. A man came up and got into Samantha's face, that's when all hell broke loose.  
Samantha suddenly flipped the chair, nailing the guy too close to her in the head with one of the chair legs. When she landed the back separated from the chair and she slipped out of the ropes tying her to it. She took the chair back and jammed it in to the second attacker. She grabbed a gun from the second attacker and shot three, four, and five, then using five's knife on six and jamming the heel of her high heeled shoe into seven's eye then shooting him in the head. 

James swallowed audibly and Harry's eyes grew wide. 

Sam pulled herself off the floor and yanked her heel out of the guys eye. Looking down at it she tossed it and took the other one off as well. She took three guns and checked the hall as she exited. Just as she left the room, Percival exited his holding cell and came down the hall quickly. Merlin then switched the feed back to Percival's. “Go out the third door down. Tell Samantha good job, but don't let them break her glasses next time.” 

Percival nodded in agreement. “If you talk to Harry tell him he can do the thing on the third of October. He'll know what I'm talking about.” They left the building and escaped in a stolen car.  
Merlin turned and looked at Harry. 

Harry shrugged. 

**October 3, 2010**

Percival entered Samantha's office and noted her fear. He came over and placed his arms around her, holding her gently. She shook slightly as he whispered into her hair, “My strong, dangerous, powerful Samantha. I'm so fucking proud to be married to you. Harry's going to go in there and do this and we're going fix everything.” 

She nodded and he let go of her. 

“I've got to get in there, love, but we'll call you in when we are ready.” Percival added and hugged her again. He went into the meeting room and sat in his seat. 

About four and half minutes into the meeting Harry cleared his throat. Everyone turned and looked at him, speaking carefully, “I am invoking The Guinevere Protocol.” 

The entire room erupted into yells.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Life decided to kick my ass last week and this week. If you wish to send me some encouragement you can always come bother me on tumblr. ---  
> [Freya Deathstalker](https://freya-deathstalker.tumblr.com/)

**Chapter 5.**

**3 October, 2010**

The entire room erupted into yells. 

Lancelot thought about ducking under the table in case some one decided to start shooting, completely forgetting that their clothing was bullet proof. Galahad considered yelling for everyone to shut up, but thought better of it once he saw that Kay had actually pointed a gun at him. 

Percival sat calmly and quietly pulled his own gun out of his shoulder holster and pointed it toward the ceiling. He pulled the trigger and caused some of the plaster to fall from the ceiling on to the table. He then gestured to Galahad to continue. 

Galahad stared at him and then looked up to the ceiling where there was a hole. Percival shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “It worked,” He stated. 

Galahad looked over the table. Staring down Kay as he spoke, “Chester King has been siphoning money off and generally causing us to do nothing but spin our wheels since he stole power from the rightful person back in nineteen-seventy.” He tapped the side of his glasses and called Samantha in. 

Samantha walked in with a stack of files and deposited one in front of each agent and smiled softly as she passed Percival. She walked to the end of the table, stood next to the door, and waited as each agent opened the file folders in front of them. What looked to be crime scene photos stared back at them. 

Samantha cleared her throat and spoke, “That is what he did to the agents and Guinevere in nineteen-seventy. Of course he will claim that there is no proof that he did it, since the glasses were not invented at the time and all they had were ear pieces.” 

The rest of the table stared down at Chester King. Kay reached to the table and to grab his gun once again. Samantha came up behind him and put a small knife to his neck. She whispered directly in his ear, 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you. Especially if you want to be the next Arthur, Bennett.”

He pulled his hand back and placed it on top of the open folder. 

Galahad looked over the folder and continued where Samantha left off. “He has also dismissed agents and prevented certain agents from doing their duties as they should be doing. Such as preventing Percival from selecting candidates in both nineteen-ninety-seven and ninety-eight and also not allowing Gawain to do certain missions.” 

Chester spat, “That's because that freak shouldn't be allowed to be an agent. Had I known what that...”

Percival glared at Chester and spat back, “Keep your mouth shut until you are allowed to speak. You know the rules and regulations.” He looked to Gawain at the end of the table, “Shall we let Gawain, himself, tell us what you used to do to him or shall we let the file speak for its self?” Percival nodded toward Gawain. 

Gawain looked up from the file and shook his head. “Most people at this table know why Arthur prevented me from doing the missions that some of you got. I shouldn't have to go into detail as to why.” 

Gawain glared at both Chester and Kay. 

A look passed around the table and Bors spoke, “So what is going to happen with Arthur? What is the procedure?” 

Lancelot spoke, “We remove him today. Then we reconvene tomorrow and vote to replace him. What actually happens to Chester King is ultimately up to Galahad since he was the one to invoke the protocol.” Looking down at the folder and closing it, “I motion to remove Chester King as Arthur.” 

Bedievere added, “I second the motion and call for a vote.” 

Galahad looked over the table and stated, “All that is needed it a simple majority, so all in favor say yes.” 

There was enough yes' to remove him. 

**Twenty minutes later**

Chester King sat at the table waiting. He didn't know why he was waiting but he still sat at the table. He sipped on a small tumbler of brandy. He looked up as the door to the dining room opened and someone entered and clicked something. No sound passed his lips as he slowly realized what was happening to him, just a look of pure anger crossed his face, as his head hit the table. 

The door closed quietly. 

**Ten minutes later and in fitting room three**

Samantha was filling shelves with a pile of new shirts when the door opened. She didn't look up at all when the person grabbed her. She stomped on the foot of her attacker. He yelped and tried to tighten his grip. She smashed her elbow in his gut and spun around enough to punch him him the face. Geriant hit the floor with a thud. 

“Don't play with me, arsehole.” She spat, wiping her hand on her skirt, “Just what did you think you would accomplish, besides pissing off everyone except Kay?” 

Geriant glared, cupping his nose, refusing to speak to her. He pushed himself off the floor and continued to glare. 

“What are you too good to talk to me now that you know I'm not some pushover and I can actually fight back? You run along and tell Kay that it's going to take a hell of a lot more than you two to scare me.” She walked closer to him and stood on her toes to grow in height, “You have no idea what I am capable of. I wouldn't test me if I were you.” She tapped him on his cupped hand and handed him a folded handkerchief. “Here. I'd go have medical check that out.” 

He turned on his heel and left. 

Rolling her eyes, she went back to putting the new stock of shirts away. 

Geriant had just gotten out of the door when Gawain entered and noticed her sitting in front of one of the displays on the floor. He let out a small amused laugh, “What are you doing on the floor, Samantha?” 

She sighed and shook her head, “What does it look like I am doing, Stephen? I am putting away this stock of bullet proof shirts that you idiots insist on destroying every other mission. I have never seen men go through so many fucking shirts in my life.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to a box near the bench. “That box is for you. There's seven new binders in there. All are a kevlar blend, like the shirts. They still recommend that you not were them all day, but those should be a tiny bit more comfortable for you.” 

Gawain pulled one out and looked it over. A smile spread over his face, sat down on the floor next to her, and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, Sam. You are too sweet.” 

She spoke something muffled into his collar.

“I know,” He answered, “but even Millie didn't order them for me. Said it wasn't her place.” 

Samantha looked up at the man. The look of genuine gratitude on his face was priceless to her. “You deserve those. They came out of the shirt budget and not out of your payroll. Now, stop acting like I did you a favor and go have a nice date night with Lamorak.” 

He got up and grabbed the box off the bench, blowing her a kiss as the door shut behind him. She shook her head and pulled herself off the floor. She grabbed a box of lighter grenades and started putting them away. When the door opened this time, she took a small look to see who it was and chose to ignore the person completely. 

Lancelot pulled her into a bear hug. “I wanted to personally thank you for what you did to Clive's face. Your husband seems to think a box of chocolates and some roses would have been adequate but I fell other wise.” 

She slipped two grenades into his jacket pockets and smiled. “Al knows better. Face busting gets more than chocolates and roses. He'll be taking me out for dinner and probably sex against the filing cabinet in the file room for the second time today.” She laughed as James let go and spun her around.   
“You what?” a look of shock came over his face, “If Harry and I try to do something like that we get caught.” 

Sam stated, tapping him lightly on the nose, “Lock the fucking door, James. They may knock, but you can then tell them to go the fuck away.” Sliding out of his grip. “I need to go meet my husband for that dinner date.” She headed for the door and smiled back at him, “Oh and tell Merlin he needs to send someone to clean up Chester. I didn't do it by the way. I was just told.” She winked and left the room. 

James stared at the door.


End file.
